


Into the Abyss (and back into you)

by Guadalupe17



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, First Love, M/M, Native American Steve Rogers, Post-High School, Slow Burn, half wakandan half dominican erik killmonger, white passing black mexican bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-09 07:18:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16445312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guadalupe17/pseuds/Guadalupe17
Summary: After being rescued, child soldier survivor Bucky Barnes tries his hardest to have a normal, ordinary high school life despite the terrors that still haunt him. One day, he receives an email that he thought would never come -- the private investigator he had hired found his mother. He has to make a plan and act quick if he doesn't want to lose her again.Sam Wilson, aspiring therapist, loves his family and his friends. After his best friend Bucky cuts off communication from their friend group, his sister goes missing. A hashtag, a social media movement, a nationwide search. But there's no trace of her. After finishing high school, Bucky contacts him once more, telling him that he knows where to find his sister.With the help of his friends, they all travel throughout the United States to find Sam's sister and Bucky's mother. And perhaps love in the way, too.---This is a Bucky and Sam centric fic!It starts quite lighthearted, but it will turn darker as I upload more chapters!





	1. First Day

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all enjoy!!

_Steve_ _♢_ _is online_

_Erik (_ _ಠ_ _ಠ_ _) is online_

_Bucky ( ˘-___-) is online_

_Sammy is online_

 

 **Steve ♢:** first day of school o(*^▽^*)o

 **Steve ♢:** you guys excited?

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ):** of course

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** i cant wait to finally step into that hellhole we call school

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** and die.

 **Bucky ( ˘-__-):** ^

 **Sammy:** facts

 **Steve ♢:** you guys…

 **Steve ♢:** we only have this year together!

 **Steve ♢:** we gotta enjoy it!

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** oh ill enjoy it alright

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** im always happy whenever i get home from school u know

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** its a good change from the crippling depression i feel whenever i step into those shitty gates of hell

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** did i also mention i get diabetes type fuck-school whenever i enter school

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** its life-threatening steve

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** i could _die_

 **Sammy:** tick tock then bitch

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** shut up sam

 **Steve ♢:** come ooooon

 **Steve ♢:** you'll be ok! You have me, Sam and Bucky!

 **Steve ♢:** i honestly think this year will be great!

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** yeah

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** i hope so too

 **Sammy:** Alright Steve we'll see you at school

 **Sammy:** I’m about to start driving now

 **Steve ♢:** ok, see you guys!

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** Oh hey btw

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** Don't forget to eat

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** You always skip breakfast...

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** At least drink orange juice

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** That should help a bit

 **Steve ♢:** yep!

 **Steve ♢:** i won’t forget (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** Good!

**Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): gay**

**Bucky ( ˘-___-):** I meant that in the most heterosexual way possible

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** when do you ever

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** remember that time you pulled down Steve’s pants while we were at the pool high af

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** because i do

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** and his ass...

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** _it haunts me_

 **Steve ♢:** i tend to have that effect on people.

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** i haven’t been able to sleep since then Steve

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** you **monster**

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** Erik hurry up we’re already waiting outside

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** dont you fucking try to change the subject

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** remember that time you pole danced and strip teased when you were drunk out of your mind

**Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** _because i do_

**Steve ♢:** but that happened last month

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** and yet it feels like an eternity

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** Why can’t you guys forget the embarrassing shit I do for like once in your lives.

 **Sammy:** cuz it was fucking hilarious thats why LMFAO I think I still have those polaroid pics somewhere

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** n cuz that’s what friends do

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** and apparently for you friendship is also traumatizing me with steves bare ass and your slutty pole dancing

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** i’ve had night terrors ever since

 **Steve ♢:** lol

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** Erik. hurry up. before I go in there. and beat you. in the face and ass.

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** We’re already late.

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** aw

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** come on you know that my hair takes long

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** shit i should be a model for l'oreal

**Sammy: we’re leaving**

**Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** okokokok im going out

 **Steve ♢:** lol be careful

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** we will try

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** See you Steve!

 **Steve ♢:** byeee

 

_Steve_ _♢_ _is offline_

_Bucky ( ˘-___-) is offline_

_Erik (_ _ಠ_ _ಠ_ _) is offline_

_Sammy is offline_

 

“About time,” Bucky says as he reclines in his seat and pulls down his beanie with a huff, almost fully covering his eyebrows. Sam looks at the backseat through the rearview mirror as Erik lazily opens the door and sits on the middle of the backseat with a groan, his black hoodie still pulled up and hiding half his face.

“Sorry.” Erik says, sounding annoyed and not sorry at all. Both boys can hear the loud trap music coming from one bud of his gold earphones while the other hangs low down his neck. He leans back and closes his eyes, already looking drained of energy before the day even starts. “There was a problem.”

Sam starts his car while keeping both of his hands on the steering wheel, “What happened?” he asks.

“Is Valentina okay?” Bucky also asks, peeking at him over his shoulder.

Erik rolls his eyes at him. “The goddamn cat is fine.” He sighs and sinks further into his seat. “Nah. Do y'all remember my cousin?” Erik taps Bucky’s shoulder to make him fully turn around, as though he wants him to see the pain in his eyes as he speaks. “The one in Wakanda? Annoying, quiet, and thinks he’s better than everybody else?”

Bucky wrinkles his nose in confusion and looks to the side as he tries to remember, but comes up empty. He shrugs.

“Ah,” Sam says, nodding. “Yes, I remember you fondly telling us about him.”

“Well,” Erik says, putting extra emphasis on the word by rolling his eyes once again. “He moved here. Has been at my house all summer. And I have to share _my_ room with _him.”_

Bucky nods in silent understanding and Sam keeps driving in silence, expecting Erik to continue talking about how his life is full of struggles. But instead Erik sits there with his arms crossed, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips forming a pout like a child. Bucky would call him cute, but starting his morning with a black eye isn’t on his to-do list.

“And um,” Bucky starts, uncertainty in his voice. “That's it?”

“That is _it.”_ Erik scoffs, sliding further into his seat. “I don't want to share my room with him. Shit, I don't want to share it with _anyone!_ Both him and my little cousin, Shuri, are here. They are filthy fucking rich, I don’t get why they gotta live with us. _”_

Bucky frowns and nods, trying to understand his unique situation. Sam instead feels the need to nervously scratch the back of his neck, but he doesn't want to let go of the steering wheel thanks to his road anxiety preventing him from even looking away. They know that Erik’s mom has been in a… feud of sorts with Erik’s paternal uncle. Erik wasn’t too specific of course, but they remember it made him upset enough to cry. And while they know he’s a soft guy under all the tough facade he puts on – he can’t say he doesn’t cry when watching the pet adoption commercials _(“they are all alone, and sad, and the music doesn’t help, you assholes! Stop laughing!”)_ or that he doesn’t sing his heart out to the opening of his favorite anime – they also know that Erik loves his father, and he loves his mother, but one of them is gone and he has been too overprotective over the only one left. Erik’s hatred for his uncle has not stopped growing since that fight with his mom.

Remembering this, both boys feel an ache in their chest for their friend, wanting nothing more but to make him smile again.

Bucky is not much of a touchy person, so when he stretches to place his hand on Erik’s knee and shakes it in silent comfort, it doesn’t go overlooked. Erik smiles at him, and when he looks to the side of Bucky he sees Sam looking at him intensely.

“What?” He spats out on impulse under the sharp scrutiny.

Sam blinks once, twice, and finally he speaks. “You’re a better person than that old man is, you know.” He slowly says in that therapeutic, soothing voice of his, causing Erik to pause. “You’re a better person than your cousin, who didn’t stand up for you or your dad. You're kind, and you care _so_ much. You— you're not afraid to fight for what's right. You’re way better than them, Erik, don’t you forget that, okay?”

Looking at him with wide eyes, Erik then slowly smiles, thankful for his best friend’s words. It might not fix it all, but it helps, even if just a little bit. He will be caught dead before he ever admits that, though, so instead he says ‘that’s kinda gay’ and laughs when Sam tells him to get the hell out of his car.

“We're here anyways!” He yells out, laughter still present in his voice.

Sam frantically locks his car and rushes to catch up with Erik and Bucky as both argue excitedly about an anime episode that streamed the night before. “Can one of y’all speak English, please?” He pushes them apart to be in the middle of them. “Or Patwah? _Me kno ou to speak dat at least.”_

Erik playfully elbows him and answers him with that smugness his teachers hate. _“Amabini anokudlala oko umdlalo, uyazi,”_ he answers back, which makes Sam smile brightly and whisper ‘alright, okay, alright’ while elbowing him back.

Bucky, though, smiles and just watches their friendly bickering, finally feeling at home. He missed this feeling. He missed them both so much.

Somehow, they're already in front of their lockers, all three of them stopping together in order starting from Bucky to Sam to Erik. In fact, that’s how they met in middle school. They happened to have been assigned lockers right next to each other when school first started; Erik arrived first and mistook his locker for Sam’s, and when Sam got there Erik wouldn’t let him get close to it. They almost got into a fistfight until they both saw Bucky trying to open the locker they were both fighting for.

Of course, after all three of them were sent to the principal's office, they’ve been best friends ever since.

Erik starts to fumble with his lock, reciting the combination under his breath like he always does with important things he has to remember, until he hears Bucky whisper to Sam to turn around and _look_.

“Okoye! Koko!” The voice of some girl catches their attention. They turn their eyes to the row of lockers in front of them to see Okoye ‘Koko’ Milaje turn to her girlfriend just in time to catch her as she throws herself at her. Her girlfriend, Nakia, excitedly throws her arms around her middle, burying her face in her girlfriend’s chest. She says something that only Okoye can hear because she laughs brightly, leans down, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

Sam smiles at Bucky, who smiles back at him and says “girls” as though that explains everything and turns to focus on opening his locker. From the corner of his eye he quickly realizes that only two people stop to stare at the couple, and only one looks like they’re disgusted… though they don’t do anything about it, instead opting to turn away from them. _Good,_ Sam thinks. He doesn't have the time for that bullshit so early in the morning. He turns to mention it to Erik, and his friend’s expression is not the annoyed one he expected for witnessing the kiss since he says to hate ‘corny romantic bullshit’ (which is a lie, because he once caught him intensely watching a telenovela in the middle of history class) but instead his expression is just one of...pain.

Sam frowns, confused. Pain...?

“So that’s why he’s here…” Erik whispers, looking away from them.

Bucky peeks over his shoulder and turns to Erik while Sam orderly puts his belongings inside his locker, who is still looking at Erik from the corner of his eye. “Who?” Bucky asks.

“Huh?” Erik stops harshly throwing his books inside his locker to look at him askew. He comes back to himself soon enough though, and he quickly closes his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. “No, nothing. I was just talking to myself.”

Both Bucky and Sam look at each other, and suddenly, they feel the _need_ to ask him about it again because the troubled look on their friend’s face bothers them, but the ring of the school bell interrupts before either of them can say anything.

“Well, gotta go.” Erik sighs irritably, slamming his locker door closed. “See y’all later – ah, wait. Both of you have art first period, right? With, uh, Ms. Minako?” He asks.

Sam nods. “Yeah, why?”

“Okay, so, my _cousin.”_ Erik says, adding an eyeroll for extra measure. “He’s coming to our school.” Sam and Bucky both raise their eyebrows in surprise, and Erik nods. “Yeah, he’s gonna come to school here, sadly. For _some_ fucking reason. Anyways, he’s probably going to be late since his _dumb_ ass didn’t wake up on time ‘cuz he was busy moping around and I wasn't going to wait for him. He’s in the same class as y’all, I believe, so if y'all could, you know, show him around… or whatever… I’d be… uh,” he coughs into his fist. “I, uh, I’d appreciate it. Seriously.” His voice turns quieter and softer as he finishes, eyes cast away. He leans from one side to another on his heels like he always does when he’s impatient or nervous.

Bucky raises an eyebrow and decides to tease him. “Hold up,” he quickly leans over him, causing Erik to step back. “You’re asking us for a favor?”

“And does that mean you actually care about your cousin?” Sam asks, wrapping his arm around Erik’s shoulder to join in on teasing him too.

Of course, it’s a trick question. Both Bucky and Sam already know that Erik cares a lot about his family (except for his uncle) and that includes his so called ‘frigid ass cousin’, despite… current events. Erik is simply not an openly affectionate person and he would never admit that he’s not the ‘cold-hearted ass bitch’ he claims to be. He would rather dump _all_ of his anime-inspired clothing than admit to having any sort of normal human feelings whatsoever.

“Fuck off!” He yells, pushing Sam off him as Sam laughs at his little tantrum, and Erik is suddenly thankful that his brown skin masks the heat rising to his cheeks. “Just – will you do it or not?!”

“Sure,” Bucky smiles. “He’s uh, quiet—”

“Full of himself—” Sam adds.

“Aaaand he’s annoying. Not hard to spot.” Erik scoffs.

Sam laughs and waves him goodbye. “Okay, you should go before you’re late.”

The smaller teen nods and turns around to head to his class, the sound of his boot heels echoing in the empty halls. While they walk towards their art class, Sam wonders what kind of person Erik’s cousin is and if he's as much of a jerk as Erik makes him out to be. Is he just as grumpy as Erik? Just as smart? Does he also say what’s on his mind without a filter? Does he smile? Is he just as direct? Does he care as deeply, but doesn’t show it? Is he just as soft when he wants to be?

… And is he straight?

“Good morning, Sam! Hello, James!” Ms. Minako welcomes them as they enter her room. “You guys are late.” She’s sitting on the same table as the rest of the students there, with a bunch of different colorful objects laid on it.

“Good morning, ma’am.” Sam greets her, Bucky greeting her too with a wave of his own as they make their way to the farthest seats at the other end of the table. Sam sets his backpack to his right with a pleased hum, while his best friend sits to his left and he takes comfort in the fact that nobody will sit by his right side. There’s plenty of other empty seats around so maybe he’ll have some peace of mind this year (last year he had the misfortune of being seated next to Tony fucking _Stark)_. Besides, it’s not like anyone would decide to sit next to Bucky either, because last year the girl that did so ended up being his designated art partner… and let’s just say… not that many people can handle Bucky’s emotional outbursts. So, it’s a win-win that he gets to be with his best friend. Bucky can be a little weird, he won’t lie. But he knows his friend, he knows who he is, he knows his life and he knows what really happened during those years (news media be damned), so he's more than happy to deal with this so called 'trouble kid’ of the school. They don't know him like he does.

Ms. Minako checks them off the attendance list with a smile and counts the class again. It seems there’s students missing, judging from her confused face and her nervous pencil tapping. “Well, I guess most of you are here. Only two students are absent—”

As if on cue there’s a knock on the door, suddenly halting all talk.

“Oh! Must be the new student!” Ms. Minako declares cheerfully. Sam twists anxiously in his seat, leaning over to see who it is. _Is it him…?_ “Open the door for him, please.”

One of the students next to her stands up and opens the door, returning to her seat quietly. From his spot, Sam can see him stride in.

The first thing he notices is his hair, his short fro perfectly shaped and adorning his face like a crown. His clothes look like they are from a quality brand -- elegant, but simple. Sam’s eyes go back up to his face and he finds warm brown eyes staring right back at him. He jumps slightly in his seat and feels his face warm up at getting caught staring, but Erik’s cousin doesn’t seem to mind because he smiles instead, winking at Sam with a tilt of his head.

Sam swiftly turns his eyes to his lap, repeating in his mind ‘STARE AT THE TABLE STARE AT THE TABLE STARE AT THE TABLE’ as he fidgets with a strand of his shirt. This _definitely_ wasn’t on his to-do list either.

_He winked at me?!_

“Yo,” Bucky whispers to him. “Was it just me or did he wink at me?”

Sam blinks. “I thought he winked at me,” he whispers back.

“... Maybe at both of us? Probably you, though. I’m a mess.” He sighs, laying his head down on the table.

Sam snickers, playfully dragging Bucky’s long wavy hair to cover his face. “You wouldn’t look a mess if you used a damn brush, you lightskin 2-b Rapunzel.”

Bucky flips him off.

From across their seats he hears a couple of girls commenting on the new student’s appearance, one in particular making colorful comments in Spanish to her twin. Sam can recognize her voice without looking. Her name’s Chal, and her sister’s name is Ime. They all hang out together occasionally since their mom is good friends with his mom. They usually play video games when good ones come out and sometimes decide to have some impromptu language classes – the twins teach him Spanish, and Sam tries to teach them Patois, and they more or less manage to learn a couple of words since they use most of their learning time laughing hysterically at each other’s accents instead.

“El _diablo_ ,” Chal whispers to Ime. “Papa _sito_ … que guapo, no?”

Handsome. Sam hates that he understood that. Seems like those Spanish classes they gave him paid off.

Ime laughs and nods, saying something else to her sister’s ear. Chal giggles in response, patting Ime’s puffy hair bun until her sister pushes her hands away with a smile. Suddenly, Sam wishes he had a close relationship like that with his own sister, but he shakes the thought off as soon as the teacher speaks. Let’s not start the day with a gloomy thought.

“Hi!” Ms. Minako says. “You’re T… challa... Uda… koh…?”

“T’Challa Udaku.” T'Challa smiles. “It’s okay.  Just T’Challa is fine.”

“T’Challa?” Ms. Minako tries again, with a concentrated face.

T'Challa smiles again, and nods. “That’s right.”

Chal elbows her sister, whispering loud enough for Sam to hear. “Suena Africano, no? O quizás del caribe?”

“Africano, me parece.” Ime whispers back.

“Nah, es caribeño.” Chal shakes her head.

“Africano.”

“Caribeño, _coño.”_

“You have a slight accent.” Ms. Minako asks T'Challa, interested. “Where are you from?”

“I am from Wakanda.” He answers.

A tiny _‘fuck!’_ is heard from Chal, but only Ime and Sam seem to notice. He tries not to laugh as Ime elbows her sister in the stomach. These girls.

“New to the country or the town?”

“Both.” T'Challa laughs. “It’s a lovely town.”

 _If only you knew,_ Sam thinks _, you wouldn’t be saying that._ But he shakes the thought off, _again,_ trying not to be negative… _again._ It’s hard to not to be a pessimist. But enough is enough. He wants to be a therapist when he grows up, goddamn it, so he needs to get it together.

“Well, T'Challa, welcome to the country! Come on, choose a seat. Let’s start the class!” Ms. Minako gestures towards all the empty seats as she checks him off the attendance sheet. T'Challa turns over where a group of loud white boys are seated together, but his eyes pass right over them. He looks at the seat next to Ime and Chal (the latter batting her eyelashes dramatically, making T'Challa smile) and considers it, until he looks over at the end of the table where Sam is.

There’s one empty seat right next to his.

He looks decided then, walking past everyone and stopping right next to Sam with a click of his heels. Not quite believing what’s happening, Sam can only stare at his own hands and ask to whichever god is listening to make T'Challa sit somewhere else. Next to Bucky, even. He’ll do anything. Hell, he’ll stop eating his gran’s mac and cheese! But _please_ , god, don’t let him sit next to him. T'Challa’s too… _too…_

“Is this seat taken?” T'Challa’s soft voice comes from his right, and Sam makes the mistake of turning his head towards him.

… Too _pretty._

T'Challa’s eyes shine like the sun, his hand resting on the table. Sam’s breath hitches as dark brown eyes lock on his. His face is a little too close for his comfort, so Sam scoots back. T’Challa tilts his head to one side in confusion, waiting for him to answer but Sam can only focus on those lovely brown eyes of his, not even caring that the silence is getting a _little_ bit too awkward, but he just doesn’t know what to say because T'Challa’s _way_ too close and—

Bucky elbows him in the ribs, bringing him back to earth.

“Are you feeling alright?” T'Challa’s face turns to one of worry, somehow inching even closer to Sam. “You look—”

“I’m okay!” He blurts out, laughing nervously. He looks at Bucky from the corner of his eye and sees the bastard stifling a smile. _Fucker._

T'Challa’s eyes widen in surprise, waiting for him to continue. “I’m—um, the seat isn’t taken, so…” Sam's eyes slide down to the empty chair while fake coughing and pressing his lips into a thin line, trying to play it cool. _Oh my god this is too embarrassing why am I acting like this._

“Alright, thank you.” T'Challa’s face lights up and Sam can’t help but smile as well, despite how nervous he feels. T'Challa drops his bag to his side and sits down gracefully on the chair with a smile. “Nice to meet you,” he says with a radiant smile, while offering his hand to him like a proper gentleman.

Sam’s brain has the decency to remember to dry his anxiously-damp hand on his jeans before he shakes T’Challa’s with an equally anxious smile. It’s kind of odd, it almost feels like they’re finishing a business meeting. _Why yes, sir, I’m glad we’ve come to the mutual agreement that I’m awkward as hell, let’s shake on it._ But it could be a Wakandan thing, who knows. T'Challa has a strong grip on his hand as soon as they touch, and he shakes Sam’s hand with confidence, taking Sam by surprise as the strong shake dips him forward. He has no time to be embarrassed because T'Challa smiles at him and the guy _giggles_ as though stumbling into someone else’s personal space is charming. He lets go of Sam and instead rests his face on his hand, two fingers up to support the crown of his head.  

“What’s your name?” T'Challa asks, eyes filled with curiosity.

And it’s at this moment when there’s another knock on the door, catching everyone’s attention.

“Oh!” The teacher exclaims. “Must be the other missing student.” This time it’s her who stands up to open the door, blocking the view of Sam’s eyes to see who it is.

“You’re a bit late, mister.” She reprimands the student. “But it’s the first day, so I’ll let it slide this time, alright?”

“I appreciate it.” Says a deep, and… quite attractive masculine voice.

Ms. Minako stands to the side and shows him the way. “Come on in!”

As soon as the student enters the room he can see exactly who it is. M’Baku walks into the classroom with that confidence Sam is so jealous of, looking as handsome as ever. His dark brown skin glows despite the unflattering light of the classroom, as though M’Baku is the exception to little things like physics. His clothes, of course, always carry a Wakandan theme, showing off the beautiful African patterns and combination of colors.

Sam looks over to the twins and finds Chal fanning herself while looking at M’Baku, who suddenly has a distasteful look on his face when his eyes fall on the only acceptable empty seats in the room. The one next to Bucky, and the one next to the twins. His eyes soon fall on T’Challa, and he falters. He recovers quickly though and walks around the table to sit down right across from him – next to Bucky’s seat.

Sam’s eyes go back to T’Challa, who seems to be… frozen in place while looking at M’Baku. He gets it though. One time, he got to seat behind him in math class and every time the teacher called M’Baku’s name to mark him present, he would stand up and give Sam a great first row view of that—

“So, uh,” Bucky’s voice brings him back to earth. He turns his head towards him and sees him talking to M’Baku, who can’t look less interested. “Guess we’re art partners now, huh?”

M’Baku finally looks at him with a neutral look on his face and says, “I am lactose intolerant.”

Bucky freezes.

Sam completely loses it. He can’t help but laugh out loud, making a spectacle even though he tries his damn best to keep it in. Naturally, he attracts some of his classmates’ eyes, but he just can’t stop. He’s trying so hard, but _Jesus._ The look on Bucky’s face, he keeps remembering it and can’t help but laugh again.

“Mhm, keep on laughing, man. Just let it all out, you _dick.”_ Bucky tell him as he claps Sam on the back, which only makes it worse.

Ms. Minako finally looks over at him, looking confused and quite annoyed at the noise. “Excuse me, Sam? Are you alright?”

“ _Yeah_ , Sam, are you _alright?_ " Bucky repeats, faking the worrying tone in his voice as he scoots closer to Sam to look him right in the eye.

“Y-Yes, miss, I’m— I’m fine,” Sam tries to tell her while desperately trying to ignore Bucky’s stupid face. “Thank you. Sorry about—” and he laughs again.

“Do you need to go to the nurse, Sam?” she asks, sounding annoyed.

“Yeah, _Sam_ , do you need to go to the nurse?” Bucky repeats again with that dumb look on his face and it makes it harder for Sam to stop laughing.

“No! N-No, I’m alright. I’m so sorry, miss, please uh, please carry on.” He coughs and bites his lip, mustering all his energy into having a poker face. It doesn’t work, it just makes him look weird with his bulging eyes, tight lips and puffy cheeks… but the teacher is satisfied enough with it to let it go.

“So, uh,” Sam turns to Bucky, a smile threatening to slip past his lips but still desperately trying to look neutral. “Wanna change seats?”

Bucky licks his lips, also trying not to smile, and nods. “Yeah, that’s— yeah, let’s change seats, man.”

Once they’re at their new seats, Bucky turns to T’Challa. “Soooo, guess we’re—”

“I’m also lactose intolerant.” He tells him with a mastered poker face.

Sam lays his head down and covers his head with his arms to tone down his loud laughter, shaking and softly smacking the table with his first a couple times. Bucky can’t hold it in either, leaning forward on the table and shaking his head as he laughs with Sam. M’Baku joins in with a loud and deep ‘HAH!’ and nothing else. T’Challa smiles ever so slightly, and the sight almost makes Bucky stop, feeling charmed by his smile and the soft crinkles at the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t quite get a look at him at first, but now he understands why Sam froze when T’Challa talked to him.

Sam coughs, and looks towards T’Challa, trying to frown in order to cancel out the dumb smile on his face. “Hey man, um, do you— uh, do you… wanna change seats?” He fake coughs into his fist, and Bucky feel his lips twitch. “Or, uh, or something?” Sam bites his lip again, praying to any god that is listening to make him stop laughing.

“I don’t see why not.” T’Challa calmly answers, picking up his stuff and changing his seat with Sam.

Once they’re _finally_ seated, Sam speaks. “Don’t worry, Buck, I got you man. I, uh, you know, I take them lactaid tablets—”

Bucky whizzes out a small laugh, and nods. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam nods as well, patting him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, you ain’t gotta worry about that.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Bucky says, smiling at him. “I know I can always count on you.”

“Nuh-uh, uh!” Sam shakes his finger on his face. “Only as long as I got my lactaid tablets,” he adds, and after a second of dead silence they both laugh loud and hard, Sam leaning on Bucky and Bucky flinching for half a second but relaxing quickly enough against Sam’s warmth.

Sam looks up at him from his shoulder. “Stop making me laugh, man, _fuck._ My face hurts.”

Bucky shrugs, Sam’s head moving with it. “That’s karma, asshole.”

Sam shakes his head, and closes his eyes, smiling softly. “I hate you.”

Bucky snorts. “And I hate you too, _sweetheart_.” Sam smacks him for that, whispering ‘gross!’ to which Bucky replies ‘but you like it!’ to which the teacher replies ‘both of you boys better shut up unless you want to be sent to the principal’s office’.

Half way through the class, their phones both vibrate at the same time, and they instantly look at each other. After making sure the teacher isn’t looking at them, they look down to check who texted them from under the table.

 

_Steve_ _♢_ _is online_

_Erik (_ _ಠ_ _ಠ_ _) is online_

_Bucky ( ˘-___-) is online_

_Sammy is online_

 

 **Steve ♢:** hey hey hey

 **Steve ♢:** Erik told me about his cousin!

 **Steve ♢:** is he cool?

 **Sammy:** ……maybe

 **Steve ♢:** ヽ(　･∀･)ﾉ i’ll get his number then!

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** steve

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** steve im begging you here

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** please dont fuck my cousin

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** p l e a s e

 **Steve ♢:** you know, i wasn’t thinking about that

 **Steve ♢:** but now that you mention it…

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** **steve**

 **Sammy:** oh btw Erik your middle school crush is in our class

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** my middle school what now

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** M’Baku. or did you forget about him already?

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** **fuck off bucks**

 **Steve ♢:** wait what

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** Erik had like… the biggest crush on him back in middle school

 **Sammy:** it was kinda cute tbh he would like… talk to him about this anime he really liked. which he got m’baku to watch somehow someway

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** And there was this couple in the show. Real romantic shit you know? Erik would say how M’Baku is so much like the romantic interest of the hero

 **Sammy:** and also how Erik was so much like the hero himself

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** M’Baku never got the hint though. But it was cute to watch. A bit pathetic, sure, but cute!

 **Sammy:** and of course a funny story to tell every person he dates lmao

 **Steve ♢:** aww Erik you sweet thing you!

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** this

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** is the worst day of my life

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** ever

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** Hey do you remember that stupid song?

 **Sammy:** which one

 **Sammy:** “M’baku and Erik sitting under a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G watching A-N-I-M-E”

 **Sammy:** is it that one

 **Bucky ( ˘-___-):** yeah! cute isn't he?

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** IM BLOCKING YOU

 **Steve ♢:** lol erik that’s so cute

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** **IM BLOCKING BOTH OF YOU**

 **Steve ♢:** cute cute cute

 **Sammy:** cute lol

 _Erik (_ _ಠ_ _ಠ_ _) is offline_

 **Steve ♢:** omg

 **Sammy:** HE ACTUALLY LEFT LMFAOOOO

 _Erik (_ _ಠ_ _ಠ_ _) is online_

 **Erik ( ಠ ಠ ):** i forgot to say something :)

**Erik ( ಠ ಠ ): _FUCK YOU ALL_**

**Bucky ( ˘-___-):** Damn that’s hot

 **Steve ♢:** i didn't know Erik was this adorable

 **Sammy:** he aight i guess

 _Erik (_ _ಠ_ _ಠ_ _) is offline_

 

This year is going to be fun.


	2. Pretty Brown Eyes

He’s ready to die.

“Kill me, Steve.” Bucky groans as he slowly slides down his chair, his low ponytail coming undone the more he goes down. “This class is going to mess me up – more than I already am, I can tell. When I die from exhaustion from finding the answer to f(x), please kidnap Valentina for me.” He sighs dramatically with a hand on his forehead for extra effect. “She likes to be cuddled when she sleeps, and she only eats when people are in the same room. Also, read her ‘ _Sleeping Beauty’_ before going to bed – that’s the most important part, Steve, don’t you forget that, alright?”

After giggling at him, Steve nods, brushing Bucky’s stray strands behind his ear. “Alright,” he agrees, looking at him with amusement. Bucky may be good in other subjects, but math will always be something that Steve can make fun of him for. “Why _‘Sleeping Beauty’_ though, out of all the stories?”

Bucky blinks slowly, his expression intact as he replies in a monotone, “she too hopes she can one day turn into a beautiful princess after an evil witch curses her to die from a tiny little pinch to her paw from a needle and fall into a long nap so an ugly prince can come in and kiss her and she can wake up and take over the kingdom, kill the prince and marry the witch, happy ever after yadda yadda yadda.” He slides lower and lower.

“Hm. I feel like you missed big chunks of the story.”

“Don’t you know your literature? _God_ , Steve, you’re so uncultured.”

There’s silence between them for a moment and the only sound they can hear is of Bucky slowly, but surely, sliding down his chair onto the floor. More students enter the class with clear regret painted on their faces. They pass by Bucky wondering if they’re in the right class, and if God truly hates humanity when he invented math, but they just sigh and keep walking forward. Yet, Bucky doesn’t seem to care much as he slides more and more into oblivion. In his defense though, Steve thinks, calculus _is_ reason enough to simply stop existing altogether from the face of the earth.

“You know,” Steve leans closer and brushes his shoulder with Bucky, who doesn't flinch at the touch. Well – touching what is barely on the chair by now, anyways. “I’m tempted to kill you now instead of waiting for calculus to do it.”

“ _Please_ ,” Bucky mock cries, making Steve laugh. Seeing and hearing him laugh with that boyish glee he loves so much makes him smile too, despite not meaning to. “Save me from my misery.”

Behind them, a loud _thud_ on a desk makes Steve jump and Bucky turn sharply towards the sound – only to find a pair of red Yeezes on the desk, the fluorescent color somehow mocking them and their cheaper shoes. Directing their eyes to the owner of them, they both slump once they realize who it is… because who _else_ could it be. With a bright grin, Tony reclines back into his seat with his arms behind his head.

“We have another class together!” He finally says, with all the bravado someone must have to wear Yeezes in public. “You must feel so lucky to have me sit so close—”

“Actually,” Steve smiles sweetly, pushing Tony’s feet off the desk. “I can’t wait till you fail the year _again,_ so I don’t have to see your stupid,” He leans closer. “Egocentric,” closer. “Can’t-even-do-eyeliner-right face again.”

Normally, Bucky would’ve been alarmed at Steve's… _scandalous_ attempt at insulting someone and tell him to maybe tone it down a little, but he knows that Tony and Steve talk to each other that way – throwing sarcastic comments as soon they see each other but not actually mean them. Sometimes. They’re good friends, he’s sure. He’s seen them hang out together, so maybe they actually do get along but don’t show it like normal people, for some reason.

He’s like, sixty-percent sure.

Tony looks at Steve with the dumbfound smile he always sports whenever Steve says something clever, or whenever he says… anything, really. Like he is… captivated by all the so-called insults Steve throws his way.

“Steve,” Tony leans over his desk, his smile reaching his eyes and making his face look gentle. “I missed you too, buddy.”

“Whatever, Tony.” Steve turns around, but Bucky doesn’t miss the smile that Steve tries to hide.

He’s not entirely sure, this is just his speculation, but after witnessing the many times they tease each other endlessly, and the way that Tony looks at Steve when he thinks nobody's looking… he thinks that maybe, just _maybe_ , there’s a _possibility_ that Tony _might_ like Steve. And not just any kind of like, no, it’s the _like-like_ kind of like. Really intense stuff, according to the romance movies he watches with Erik. A like-like-like. A like-like-like- _like_ kind of like. A likeception, if you will. A like-like-like-like-like—

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice pulls him back to earth. “Are you okay? You’re making that face you always make whenever you are thinking too much about something.” He smiles again. “Usually about something stupid.”

Busted.

“Uh,” Bucky looks away and smiles sheepishly, scratching his cheek. “I’m okay, just thinking about what my legacy will be when I die from too much calculus.”

Steve snorts and shakes his head, and Bucky feels at ease again, just like that.

“Oh, Barnes.” Tony hovers his eyes lazily over him, looking completely uninterested. “Didn't see you there.”

Ah. There it is. So much for feeling at ease.

Bucky sighs. He scratches his nose and looks down, trying his best to come across as unthreatening as possible. Submissive, like his therapist said. “Yeah, um, hey Tony—”

“ _Stark_.” He interrupts him, halting his talk and making him look up at him. “It's _Stark_ , to you.” He gestures towards him. “We went over this many times before, Barnes. You don't get to call me by my name.” Tony’s voice changes from the gentle tone he used with Steve, turning sharper. Accusing. It instantly puts Bucky’s body on the defense even though he doesn't want it to. “But you know this already, don't you?”

Bucky forces a smile as much as it pains him. He hates pretending. “Right.” But he keeps his eyes locked on Tony’s, neither of them daring to look away, waiting for the other to attack. But Bucky won't do anything unless Stark hits first – that's his rule. His only rule. “My bad.”

“It _is_ your bad,” Tony smiles back, leaning over his desk to get closer to Bucky. He won’t rise to the bait, he won't let himself to but _god_ , he wants to push him away already and wipe that smile off his face.

Before he even gets a chance to answer though, Steve interrupts. “Jesus, guys, relax.” Sighing, his hand comes to rest on Bucky's shoulder and it immediately relaxes him, the complete opposite effect if anybody else were to touch him. Thank fuck for Steve. “I still don't understand why you two fight all the time.”

“Oh, Barnes knows what he did.” Tony drawls on, still staring into Bucky, still challenging him. It pisses him off.

“You always say that.” Steve squeezes his hold on Bucky’s shoulder, but Bucky doesn't turn to look at him. He hears Steve sigh again. “But he hasn't told me either.”

“Mmm, well, that's between you two, isn't it?” Tony smiles again, the fakeness of it making Bucky want to gag. He wants to leave.

But then the sharp and familiar click of boots enters the classroom and it shakes him out of his thoughts. This time, he smiles for real. He knows who it is without even looking.

_“Fuck_ me,” Erik’s voice catches everyone's attention, and for that he is grateful. He was afraid he was going to make a scene with Tony provoking him the way he was. “Why are _you_ here?!”

Bucky turns around and finds Erik hunched over with a scary look on his face, pointing a finger somewhere behind him. For a second, he thinks it’s meant at him and tenses up, but then he realizes – oh yeah, Tony is here.

“The other teachers didn’t want me.” Tony answers, shrugging it off as though that’s something that happens to everyone. “The only math teacher who tolerates me is Mr. Jacob, so I’m here.” He looks at Erik as though he's a little kid asking an obvious question. Looking down on him. Erik doesn’t take it lightly.

“How fucking _stupid_ do you have to be for _every_ single teacher, including all the ones that teach the _easiest_ subjects, to flat out reject you?!” He spats out, anger and disbelief stretching on his face like freezing glass. “Aren't you supposed to be a genius or something?!”

Bucky doesn’t understand why Erik lets little things like that get to him so much because Tony doesn’t seem to care, and it shows – he just smirks and shrugs again. It further angers the ball of rage in front of him. “Mr. Jacob is pretty chill, so I’ll behave. No need to get so worked up about it.”

Before Erik can answer, and possibly commit a crime right in front of Bucky’s eyes, someone rests a hand on his shoulder. He turns around ready to snap at whoever _dared_ to touch him when he’s _clearly_ busy being angry, but he backs down as soon as he realizes who it is. His shoulders relax, and his face softens. “Sam?”

Sam simply nods, and eyes the desk next to Steve and Bucky. Despite not saying anything, Erik seems to get it because he scoffs and nods reluctantly, but not before shooting a final death-glare towards Tony, who simply shrugs it off with a wink and a finger-guns combo. He successfully pisses Erik off more without even trying as he sits down next to Sam.

“Hey, guys,” Sam greets them with a smile, making them turn towards him. “Guess the gang's all here again?”

All of a sudden Mr. Jacob, their teacher, enters through the door. He drags his feet as he walks with a coffee container in hand, a pencil behind his ear, and his glasses askew in a comical way. He rushes to his desk as conversation dies down, and _slumps_ down on his chair. Then, with all the suffering he can muster in his voice, he speaks.

“Sorry I’m late, guys.” Mr. Jacob apologizes with pain in his eyes. “I didn’t want to be here.”

Well, the class is going to be interesting, to say the least.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gym class. Bucky both loves and hates the class.

He loves it because, well, _sports._ Usually, they play volleyball, basketball, baseball or tennis. He’s an okay player when it comes to volleyball, he sucks at basketball, and he’s really good at tennis and baseball if he says so himself. It’s a great time to spend with his friends and have fun, and he honestly _really_ does love that aspect of the class.

However.

What he hates is not the class itself, or the students. Nor is it the gym or the field. It’s the teachers. Now, before moving to his current town, he used to live in cities where people were… more diverse. They never were the _best_ of towns, sadly, thanks to his former adoptive parents’ business and reasons for adopting him, but they were places where he would find people from all over the world. He learned different languages, ate diverse types of food, and immersed himself in distinct cultures. Each place had its charm, despite the struggle, and he could relate more to the people living with him since many were going through the same tough life, the same dangerous game. Don’t get him wrong though, he's grateful for the opportunity his new adoptive parents gave him, and this new city is not _bad_ per se, but… it is definitely not his favorite. His gym teachers, in particular, are the kind of people he wouldn’t want his children to grow up to be if he ever were to have any. Because of several comments that they made in regard to Steve, Sam and him, as well as Ime and Chal, he just tells his parents that he hasn’t grown… _too_ fond of the teachers, as his therapist told him to say.

But who is he kidding. He fucking despises them. His anxiety won’t let him ask for a change of class again, though, so he has to suck it up. First and last time he tried to do that, the school counselors _lost_ their minds. There were so many questions flung at him, so many state therapists and psychologists testing him, and his current adoptive parents constantly brought in ‘just in case’ he ‘acts up’. He had to repeat the same thing over and over again in order to convince the doctors to _not_ take him to the hospital… _again._ No, he doesn't hate anyone. No, he's not remembering anything. No, he's not having those _bad_ , scary thoughts. No, he's not going to fucking _kill_ anyone, for fuck’s sake, just shut up before he _actually_ thinks those _bad_ thoughts again and—

He feels his knees go weak.

That's his clue to stop his train of thought before it actually makes him fall to his knees. He closes his eyes and pictures the number one hundred in his head. He counts backwards, subtracting three, because this is not serious enough to warrant anything higher. Even though he ‘learned’ this technique in the worst conceivable way, it's always the one that works the quickest and he needs it _now._ His therapist will be disappointed in him, but he doesn't _care_ right now, not when he already feels vile rising in his throat and he needs to _count._ Count, count, count, count, _count_.

So, count he does. He reaches seventy-three and stops.

_“Relax. Breathe. Don't think, James.”_

Alright, okay.

Anyways… he believes he can take it. That, despite everything, maybe he’s just exaggerating and blowing things out of proportion. That maybe he’s just reading too much into what his teachers say and do, and he should just let it go and stop being so damn _paranoid_ all the damn time.

But then he remembers the comment his teacher said about Sam’s hair, and he feels the need to throw a basketball at their heads repeatedly until there's blood and brain matter scattered on the floor.

… Okay, now that’s a _bad_ thought. He needs to talk to his therapist soon. Is the medicine not working anymore?

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice calls out for him, pulling him out from the trance he was in. “Everyone's gone already.” He looks around the messy locker room to emphasize his point. “You got lost in your thoughts again.”

 Bucky’s eyes drop to his feet, looking at the dirty clothing that was thrown on the floor by his classmates. The smell in the locker room is always a bit strong but nothing intolerable. It wasn’t as bad as last year. God, the locker room _reeked_ of sweat, feet and shame back then. And that last one was hard to get rid of.

“Ah.” Bucky nods, pushing back his hair from his face. “Well, I’m changed already.”

“Right.” Steve nods, expressionless. “Because you always wear sweats.”

“I always gotta be ready in case of a duel.”

His best friend snorts as he wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, dragging him out of the locker room. This time he _does_ flinch, but he attributes it to his little… _whatever_ that was happening in his head earlier and wraps his arm around Steve’s waist to let him know that his touch is welcomed, and that he doesn’t need to pull away. It makes his friend smile in relief, so he smiles back. “Okay, smartass. Let’s go to our spots before Mr. S. gets all worked up.”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he walks towards the gym. “I still can’t believe we have him as a teacher again this year.”

“It’s okay.” Steve bats his eyelashes sweetly, pretending to flip his long hair that’s currently in a ponytail over his shoulder. “You have me here with you.”

“That’s the exact reason why I’m miserable, actually.”

Steve sighs heavily. “Why do you hurt me with your words _._ ”

Bucky laughs at him, carefree, and the sound of it causes Steve’s breath to hitch. “You may be getting muscle now but you're still that skinny, asthmatic idiot that gets into fights he can't win.”

Instead of answering, Steve brings Bucky closer to himself with the arm already around his shoulders and ruffles his hair into a bigger mess. Bucky can’t see it, but he can feel Steve laugh, his chest moving against his side with the sound. Just hearing it makes him laugh as well, a familiar bubbling sensation spreading throughout his chest – a feeling he only ever gets whenever he’s around Steve.

Suddenly, they are now a pair of jerks laughing uncontrollably as they walk towards the gym with no apparent worries in their minds. They start synchronizing their steps – left leg first, then the right one, one right after the other. They stumble at first, but they manage to get to their assigned places without falling on their asses.

Bucky thinks Steve is going to go to his assigned spot, but instead he turns around and wraps his arms around his middle and Bucky hugs him back without really thinking about it. He smiles and leans his head on top his best friend’s, feeling at ease again. Steve then quietly starts to sway them from side to side, and Bucky follows his lead, settling into a slow comforting loop.

Then…

“I love you, Bucky.”

Bucky hears those words, and he slowly closes his eyes. He tries not to, but he can’t help the smile that forms at his lips. _This idiot._

“I love you too, Stevie.” He answers back, some laughter remaining in his voice.

Satisfied, Steve hums. “Mnn, I loooove you.” He sings, burying his face on the crook of Bucky’s neck. “Loooove you.”

“Love you too, man.” Bucky repeats, beginning to laugh again as Steve gets increasingly clingier.

“No, no.” He feels Steve shake his head against his collarbone. “I love you, Bucky. _I love you.”_ This time, he whispers, his voice getting softer and gentler, as though he doesn’t really want Bucky to hear them. “I love you.” He breathes. “I _love_ you…”

Kill bill sirens echo in his brain. Of course they love each other, they're best friends after all! Best friends say I love you to each other all the time. But he's pretty sure they don't repeat it _that_ much, at least not according to the books he reads. So why. Why is Steve saying it like that?

Confusion runs through his veins as he hears those words repeat again and again in his head, the tone of Steve's voice somehow implying something more serious and delicate – something that, one, he doesn't quite understand and, two, something that even if he _knew_ what it means or feels like… he doesn’t want to deal with it right now anyways. So why is Steve doing this? What is he trying to get across? He knows Bucky hates it when people aren't clear with him. And he also knows Bucky is not too fond of overusing that word, either.

Unless.

… Maybe Steve is not feeling well? Maybe something happened, and that’s why he’s acting like this? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“And I love you too, Steve.” He answers back, stopping their swaying. Pulling him slightly apart, he asks, “Are you alright?” He hopes Steve can see on his face that whatever is making him act like this… he can trust Bucky to confide in him and help him with it. He may be messed up in the head, but years of therapy have given him enough knowledge on several coping mechanisms.

Steve hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah. I just feel… especially loving today.” He shrugs, the movement barely noticeable in their tight embrace. Something about the tone in his voice strikes Bucky as insincere, and a faint string of worry starts forming in his chest, steadily spreading.

“Ah.” But Bucky just hums, leaving it alone. He decides not to get too into it right now, considering they’re not by themselves, but he gives Steve a look to let him know the subject isn't over. Going back to swaying, he takes a look around the gym. He looks at a couple of his classmates and some of his teachers, but soon his gaze somehow lands on familiar brown eyes that he remembers from earlier this morning. Suddenly, he feels the need to look away immediately, but as he turns he doesn’t miss the way T'Challa’s eyes are wide in disbelief, with his mouth slightly open as if he's seen a ghost. It catches Bucky by surprise – so he looks again. T'Challa’s expression is one of not just surprise, but fright.

Fear. He’s _scared._ But why? And of who?

T'Challa seems to realize that he got caught staring, because as soon as their eyes lock he jumps as though he’s been stung. He swiftly twists his head around, setting his gaze forward and nowhere else. He’s not the same confident, bright young man Bucky saw stride into his classroom. The T’Challa in front of him looks… small, and quite frustrated. Bucky is still hugging Steve, so he can’t really move much at all, but he wishes he could get closer just to ask him what’s wrong.

He’ll mention it to Erik, maybe he can help too.

For now, he’ll just keep swaying in Steve’s arms, trying not to think too much about his former parents, his teachers, or those gentle brown eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter it'll get a bit more real. by chapter 3 the plot will finally get going. I hope y'all enjoy <3

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget to like, comment and subscribe!


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